


Strength Like a Tower

by potatoesanddreams



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: First Age Minas Tirith, Gen, Imprisonment, Tol-in-Gaurhoth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:27:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23354671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potatoesanddreams/pseuds/potatoesanddreams
Summary: "'The Elves of this land were of a race strange to us of the silvan folk, and the trees and the grass do not now remember them. Only I hear the stones lament them: deep they delved us, fair they wrought us, high they builded us; but they are gone.'"-The Lord of the RingsHeld in the dungeons of a tower he himself built, Finrod Felagund draws strength from the stone.
Relationships: Finrod & Minas Tirith
Comments: 17
Kudos: 32
Collections: The Tolkien Decameron Project





	Strength Like a Tower

I remember when we built you up, my dear. It was in that first flush of victory when the Siege had just begun, and our hearts were high within us, and we sang to you as we worked. I myself chiseled none of your stone, I admit – do you remember those that did? My people, taking you in pieces from the mountains, making you one and whole – how they loved you, building you. I saw it in their work, the movements of their hands. And how I loved you also! The sheen of your silver-gray stones – I watched you rising in the sun, you that I had sketched by lamplight, and I prayed that you would stand forever.

And still you stand. It is a hard thing; I am sorry.

But it is good to be here with you once more, whatever befalls. I felt your welcome when I passed your gates, and now when I rest my cheek against your wall, I feel the stone of you warm with the memory of sunlight. You have long been a prisoner on your own isle; it is not unfitting that I should join you here, that we should comfort each other with memory. How Sauron has sought to twist you! You had not so many dungeons in our day. This was a root cellar once, as I recall; I wonder if he has tried to forget it? It is dreadfully prosaic, keeping his prisoners where once his prisoners kept their turnips. Or I wonder if he thinks we think it an indignity? He _would_ be such a fool.

You will look after my companions, will you not? While I am here, and when I go, if that is before all the rest of them have gone. I expect you remember Edrahil – he kept account of your stone and mortar, when we were building you, and which work-crew had charge of which portion of your walls. That work inflicted him with a number of headaches – but those were never your fault; they were usually my own. He would tell me – this section is behind schedule, simplify the carvings, they are taking too long; and I would say – what, and lose half the symbolic resonance? No, we will add more carvings elsewhere, and then all the work will proceed at the same rate, and the problem will be solved. How he growled at me! But you were very beautiful in the end, your walls all wrought with bas-reliefs. I was sorry to see the rough places left where Sauron had them ground away. Still, I suppose I can understand why he did so. Some of them were not terribly complimentary to him, after all.

The rest of my friends here you do not know; but I love them dearly, and I am certain you would too, if circumstances allowed for you to make their acquaintance properly. They are all very brave indeed, and true and loyal, lovers of good and beautiful things such as you; and Baradan there is in fact an architect, which should interest you. He would have loved to see you in your glory – I know, for he told me so. He helped me with Nargothrond, you see, and early in our work together I showed him your plans to give him a sense of my style, and he said he was sorry he had not been here for your building. If there were only time, I am sure the two of you would become fast friends.

So treat him as a friend, will you – for my sake? Treat them all so. Murmur to them of the mountains that birthed you – give them sunlit slopes to wander in their sleep. The Man especially; he is very young, and he starves for the light, and for a glimpse of the green things that grow beneath the sky. I know, my dear, that you know very little of those; but whisper to him of the roots of trees, and perhaps he will remember their branches.

You are so strong for me. I am terribly grateful for it – you know that was what I was asking, in my song. _Strength like a tower – secrets kept –_ I do not know if I would be able to keep them forever, in a strange place amid unfriendly stone. But here, here I can endure. You are friend to me and not to Sauron, though he has chained us both. I wish I had the power to repay you for that with your freedom. But if all I can do for you is love you, my dear, and be grateful – then remember I do love you, when I am gone – remember it!

Hist! The wolf comes. Be steady for me now.


End file.
